From the standpoint of civilization the Mongolian dynasty of Yuean brought
nothing to China. On the contrary, the foreign elements were absorbed by
the ancient culture for, in the final summing-up, the mind will always be
stronger than weapons. From the standpoint of painting, however, this
period has marked individuality.
The Sung period had been distinctly dominated by the ideals of Southern
China. Philosophical inspiration had proven too strong to permit the style
of the Northern School to assert absolute sway. In this we must make an
exception of Buddhist painting, which,--save in the work of a few chance
painters of religious subjects--continues the traditions of the T'ang
period, preserving the original character of its coloring. It is true that
there were masterpieces to the credit of the Northern School but it had by
no means kept to the style of vivid illumination which marked its
inception.[15] It had yielded to the influence of the Southern style,
was simplified by this contact and took on the austerity and proportion of
the South. It would seem as if the painters hastened to add their
testimony before the philosophy of the ancient sages should disappear.
They strove to give the world perfect images in which the great principles
of the universe could be felt vibrating. The only suitable medium for such
expression was the technique of the Southern School which they followed
with more or less fidelity.
[15] It should be borne in mind that the author uses the term
illumination in the sense of color applied within a distinct and
limiting outline. This is illustrated in the definitions of single and
double contour.--TRANSLATOR.
[Illustration: PLATE XIV. BAMBOOS IN MONOCHROME BY WU CHEN
Yuean Period. Musee Guimet.]
Southern China was at that time the scene of awakened faculties. Shaken to
its foundations by the mystic movement--both Taoist and Buddhist--of the
T'ang period, the Confucian doctrine had lost ground but had not yet
congealed into the rigid official code of a Chu Hsi. While heterodox
beliefs still prevailed, all were free to borrow their prophetic and
poetic meaning.
When the Mongols came into power, they only carried to completion the work
of conservation begun by the Sung emperors. In their contact with China
they resembled timid pupils quite as much as conquerors. Once emperor of
China, the Mongol Kublai Khan could not but remember his purely Chinese
education. Moreover it was quite the Tartar custom to extend their
conquests to administrative organization, by establishing a hierarchy of
functionaries. The conception of a supreme and autocratic State, paternal
in its absolutism, intervening even to the details of private life in
order to assure the happiness of the people,--this idea, dear to the
literary conservators of the Confucian School during the Sung period, was
also too similar to the Tartar ideal to be denied immediate adoption.
Heterodox doctrines were formally banished from schools. Rejected with
scorn as being corrupt and dangerous, there remained of these doctrines
only such residuum as might be found in the independent thought of
artists, who were more difficult to control. The magnificent movement of
the Sung period began to abate; it produced its last master pieces and
gradually waned, until under Ming rule it was to die out completely.
The Yuean epoch, therefore, appears in the light of a transition period
connecting the fifteenth century of Ming with the thirteenth century of
Sung. From the point of view which interests us, it did nothing but
complete a work which had been carried on with energy and success by
adherents in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. It strove to reduce
China to a severely regulated State in which all great movements and
impulses should be under strict control. It succeeded. It succeeded so
well, indeed, that the Europeans who came to know China in the seventeenth
century and who rediscovered it so unnecessarily in the nineteenth
century, believed it to have been motionless for two thousand years. There
is no need to lay stress here upon the absurdity of this prevalent
opinion. It has been seen in the past and will be seen in modern times,
that the inner travail, the evolution and the diversity are by no means
arrested. Like the nations of Europe, China has had its evolution; the
causes were analagous, its destiny the same. This is especially felt in
the history of its painting. When the potent inspiration of the Southern
School began to wane, the style of the North took the upper hand for
obvious reasons.
[Illustration: PLATE XV. PAINTINGS OF THE YUeAN OR EARLY MING PERIOD
Style of the Northern School. Collection of R. Petrucci.]
Partially civilized barbarians occupied the highest places in the State.
They were the controlling party at the imperial court and had usurped the
place of the old society, refined, subtle and perhaps too studied, which
formed the environment of the last Sung emperors. Despite their naive
efforts and good will, these barbarians could not fathom an art so
austere, enlightened and balanced. They were utterly ignorant of such a
masterly conception of nature as was evoked in Chinese painting.
Monochrome to them was dull. They could admire on trust, but they could
not understand. On the other hand, the Northern style with its bold
assurance, strong coloring and drawing positive almost to the point of
seeming sculptural, was more akin to their mental outlook. There at least
they found something which recalled those rugs on which they appear to
have exhausted their artistic resources. In a word, they were more
accustomed to the Northern style and had brought with them from the
Northern regions their own artists, both Chinese and barbarian.
The Northern temperament, reflective, strong and positive, now began to
assume mastery over the bewildered reveries of the Southern nature. Things
are seen to change. Even the masters who continue the Sung tradition
infuse a somewhat more robust quality into their works, but, in so doing,
they lose a certain stirring depth which gave the work of their
predecessors such an exceptional character. Caught between these two
tendencies, Yuean painting takes on new traits, which are perhaps more
accessible to European mentality because they are more simple and direct.
These observations apply to the general evolution of Chinese painting from
the end of the thirteenth to the end of the fourteenth centuries. We must
now consider it more in detail, citing by way of illustration a few of the
painters who expressed the spirit of the time.
At its inception the Yuean dynasty had inherited the last masters of the
Sung period, among them two artists who are recognized as of the first
rank. Chao Meng-fu--known also under the appellation of Tzu[)u]-ang--was
born in 1254. He was a descendant of the first Sung emperor and held an
hereditary post which he resigned at the time the Yuean dynasty came into
power. He retired into private life until 1286, then when called back to
court as a high functionary, he became a supporter of the new dynasty.
Chao Meng-fu painted landscape as well as figures, flowers and the bamboo,
but he is most celebrated for his horses. Numberless paintings of
horses are attributed to this master; needless to say the great majority
of these are not by his hand.
[Illustration: PLATE XVI. PORTRAIT OF A PRIEST
Yuean or Early Ming Period. Collection of H. Riviere.]
As a landscape painter he seems to have worked in the style of the
Southern School, with a fine, simple line in which may still be seen
traces of the ancient tradition that extends back to Ku K'ai-chih. This
characteristic line is found in the paintings of men and horses where the
hand of Chao Meng-fu is distinguishable. He bequeaths it to the large
school which he founded, and, through his pupils, it becomes the
inheritance of his imitators in the Ming period. It is more than probable
that almost all of the paintings by his pupils, bearing the signature
Tz[)u]-ang, are attributed to the master, while his own paintings are
ascribed to Han Kan, painter of horses in the T'ang period. However, among
the numerous works attributed to Chao Meng-fu, there are a few in which we
recognize the vibrant and flexible line which is seen in his landscapes.
These paintings bear the signature of Tz[)u]-ang, in all probability a
false one, but the work of art itself will always be of greater value in
determining its authenticity than the most impressive of inscriptions. If
the technique and the quality of the line are sufficiently similar to
warrant attributing to the same hand the landscape in the British Museum,
and any particular painting of horses, this may be regarded as sufficient
evidence on which to base our own opinion as to his style.
Amongst his grooms and mounted soldiers, Chao Meng-fu painted the
different races which the wave of Mongolian invasion had swept into China:
Chinese from the central provinces, Tartars, Mongols with fur caps,
Moslems of a Semitic type from Turkestan, with white turbans and heavy
earrings. Whether his subject was the little Tartar horse from the
Mongolian plains or the beautiful steeds of ancient Transoxiana, always
brought as tribute by way of Khotan to the Chinese court, he gave the life
of the horse a singular beauty, portraying him in an equally happy manner
whether in the act of racing or in the attitudes of repose. In his mind
still dwelt the vision of Sung ideals, which proclaimed the hidden soul of
things and valued spirituality and life in a painting. Although we see
marked evidence of the Southern style in his work, his paintings are more
strongly colored than are those of that school. The influence of the Yuean
period begins to make itself felt. It brings out values in colored
pigment, emphasizes its violence and paves the way for a new tradition.
Chao Meng-fu has been compared by Chinese critics to his great predecessor
Han Kan. The writings, however, are unanimous in stating that,
notwithstanding his undeniable mastery, he lacked something of the vigor
of the earlier master. When we attempt to compare the two styles through
the aid of paintings of the T'ang period, wherein a reflection of the
great animal painter may be sought, the writings appear to be confirmed
in attributing a more positive and forceful character to the work of Han
Kan or the unknown group of painters around him. But Chao Meng-fu seems to
have possessed in a higher degree the feeling of movement and life, and to
have been less hampered in his choice of poses. Centuries of study and of
observation had intervened between the great animal painter of the T'ang
epoch and his worthy rival of a later period.
[Illustration: PLATE XVII. HORSE
Painting by an unknown artist. Yuean or Early Ming Period.
Doucet Collection.]
Like Chao Meng-fu, Ch'ien Hsuean, or Ch'ien Shun-chue, retired from public
life at the downfall of the Sung dynasty. He was a member of a group of
the faithful over which Chao presided, but, more decided than the latter
in his opposition to the new dynasty, he was indignant at his confrere's
defection and refused to follow his example. He lived in retirement,
devoting himself to painting and to poetry up to the time of his death. He
also continued the Sung tradition under the Yuean dynasty to which, as a
matter of fact, he belonged only during the second part of his life. He
painted figures, landscape, flowers and birds. His delicate line is not
lacking in strength, and he seems to have been especially endowed with a
sense of form which approached greatness in its simplicity. Whether the
subject is a young prince or a pigeon perched on the summit of a rock from
which chrysanthemums are springing, the same dignified and tranquil
nobility is asserted with ease. He still used the quiet and restrained
coloring of the Sung period and prolonged, without impairing it, the
great tradition that a century and a half could not quite efface.
Of Yen Hui we know almost nothing; the books state briefly that he painted
Buddhist figures, birds and flowers, and that he was past master in the
painting of demons. Nothing is known of the date of his birth or if, by
his age and training, he could be classed in the Sung period, but several
admirable paintings by him are extant which serve to show how Sung art was
still interpreted by exceptional masters in the Yuean period. His line is
strong, broader, fuller and more abrupt than that of Chao Meng-fu or
Ch'ien Shun-chue. The quivering vitality that emanates from his pictures is
thrilling. Whether the subject is a peony heavy with dew, whose drooping
petals presage the approaching end, or a Buddhist monk patching his
mantle, the fleeting moment is seized with such intuitive power that
prolonged contemplation of the painting creates the impression that it is
suddenly about to come to life. There is something sturdier, more
startling, less dreamy in these great painters who continue the traditions
of Sung art; their work alone demonstrated that tradition could be revived
and that ancient China, under the Mongolian dynasty, was still preserving
its creative spirit and advancing resolutely into fertile fields.
In Huang Kung-wang and Ni Tsan, we approach a different order of things.
Lines began to take on a classical character, to be divided into a
series of different types, which painters adopted according to their
temperament and requirements, and finally became impersonal and academic.
Both of these painters, nevertheless, were under the spell of early
influences extending back to the T'ang artists. Through study of these old
masters they returned to the use of a full and sometimes vivid color, but
kept a profound love of nature, and a fresh and original vision, by which
they still perpetuated the inspiration of Sung painting in a new form.
With these painters, however, new features appeared. Reds and purples
became dominant notes amidst rich greens which set them off and enhanced
their brilliancy. The vision of landscape itself is somewhat more
realistic and less subtle. In all of these essentials Ni Tsan, who died in
1374, brings us nearer to the Ming period.
[Illustration: PLATE XVIII. VISIT TO THE EMPEROR BY THE IMMORTALS FROM
ON HIGH Ming Period. British Museum, London.]
Simultaneously, though quite apart, marked tendencies of a different
character were evident. The old masters of the T'ang period had again
returned to favor. The vivid illumination and color distinct from drawing,
in these firm and vigorous works appealed to the untutored barbarian. On
the other hand, the studies of the Sung period had not been fruitless;
therefore when, under these influences, the use of color was resumed, the
painters profited by what the practice of monochrome had taught meanwhile.
In the Yuean period appear those paintings which are attacked directly with
a dripping brush without preliminary drawing, the forms being modeled in
the color itself. The Chinese called this painting "without bones," in
other words, deprived of the assistance of line. This procedure was first
used by a painter of the Sung period, but it did not take root definitely
until the time when the practice of using Chinese ink as a medium to
express tones had taught painters how to model forms in color itself,
making the structure depend upon color.
Seen as a whole, the Yuean period witnessed the assembling, the
concentration, so to speak, of the ardent but scattered inspirations of
the great masters of the preceding school. It produced splendid
compositions in which the golden age of Chinese painting continued to be
manifest. Masters arose and if, in spite of all, they mark a reaction
toward the Northern style, seeking rich and vivid color, they give us a
vision of beauty that is equal to the work of their predecessors.
Meanwhile grave signs of decadence were apparent. Composition became
overladen and complex and began to lose something of the noble simplicity,
greatness and supreme charm of the old masters. It was evident that the
Yuean painters were working under the eye of the barbarians. They yielded
to the taste of the latter for anecdote, for surmounting difficulties and
for sentimental detail. Thus far there were only scarcely perceptible
shadows and momentary weaknesses, warning signs of decadence; but when
such signs are evident, decadence is at hand, and that which the virility
of the barbarians had preserved was to be lost through the creed-bound
dignity of an academic China, which was imprisoned in a rigid system of
rules.